Page 76 of Conrad

Oh . . .What was that? But she laughed, and it sounded like she was twelve.

He cupped her face. “I can’t turn off my brain here, Pen, or I’ll get in over my head.”

Right.And there it was, wasn’t it? Reality.

She nodded, was about to step away, when he looped his hand around the back of her neck.

“Then again, maybe I already am.”

He kissed her again. This time with the passion, the intensity, of the man she saw on the ice—all in, skilled, determined, in control, but playing with an edge of danger.

Yes.And maybe she’d been lying to herself to think that she wouldn’t completely, hard and swiftly, fall for this man. That she could keep it just fake, no strings, shallow, and professional. She’d probably known it in her heart from the day over a month ago when he’d taken her in his arms.

She trusted him.

The truth of that filled her veins, made her take a breath, relax.

Enjoy.

And then she just held on as he kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her.

Her comforter had fallen off her shoulders, but the room had heated and her entire body turned to flame. He finally lifted his head, breathing a little hard, and met her eyes.

“Okay. You should sit down on that other sofa, and don’t move, no matter what I say. Or want to say.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh?”

He actually pushed her away, then bent and grabbed her comforter, wrapped it around her, tucking it into itself like a burrito. Then he picked her up and brought her over to the sofa. Set her down.

Kissed her forehead.

“What is this?”

“This is me behaving myself.” He put distance between them, picked up his comforter, and draped it over his shoulder like a superhero.

Oh.It was sweet, really, because no, she hadn’t thought he’d pushed her too far. He’d left her wanting more.

He sank down onto the chair.

“This is silly. Come over here,” she said. “There’s enough room.”

He cocked his head.

“The fire will die. It will get cold. . . .”

His eyes narrowed.

“I might have nightmares.”

He rolled his eyes but smiled.

She struggled and sat up. “And I refuse to let you sleep on a chair. Or the floor.”

“There are two bedrooms,” he said.

“I already feel like a criminal. I’m not climbing into their beds.”

Maybe the wordcriminalsat on him, because he nodded. But he still didn’t get up.

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